Nostalgia
by Chirugal
Summary: Some things never change. A series of snapshots of Abby and Gibbs' relationship over twenty years. Gibbs/Abby, now complete.
1. Introductions

**Title**: Nostalgia  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: Up to and including _Judgment Day.  
_**Summary**: Some things never change.

**Author's Note**: This sprang up out of the blue – it has no plot, but it's a series of snapshot moments ranging from when Abby and Gibbs first met to twenty years down the line. I don't think Abby will have mellowed out much by 2021, so I've written her as the same character she's always been… And Gibbs will always be Gibbs.

***

_April 14th, 2021_

The front door slams shut, and Gibbs glances toward the hallway as something thuds to the floor. Abby limps into the room, dressed in one of her ill-fitting pastel suits, and throws herself down on the couch with a sigh. Amused, Gibbs mentally predicts the words she speaks.

"I _hate_ court!"

Her heels have been abandoned on the doormat, and Gibbs motions for her to put her feet in his lap, beginning to massage them. She sags against the cushions, smiling, and steals a swallow of his coffee.

"Is it over?" he asks, taking the mug back before she can drink the entire contents.

"The jury voted to convict," she says with satisfaction. "My testimony rocked. The defence attorney hardly even cross-examined me… I was kinda disappointed."

"Just be glad you don't have to wear the heels tomorrow," he replies, squeezing her toes.

"Amen to that." She's quiet for a moment, but something seems to hit her, and she grins. "Guess who I saw in the courthouse?"

From her enthusiasm, he surmises it's someone from their mutual past, but after all these years it'd take him too long to pin it down. "Who?"

"Jimmy Palmer."

He hasn't thought of Palmer in a while. The last time he saw the medical examiner, he was Ducky's assistant at NCIS. Young, green and easily intimidated, Palmer had nevertheless been an invaluable addition to the morgue. Once he finished medical school, Fornell and the FBI snapped him up as a fully-fledged ME.

"How's he doing?"

Abby nods affectionately. "He's good. He just got engaged to Agent Krieger – who'd have thought?"

That surprises him. Then again, Palmer's always had a thing for federal agents. "He still waiting for Ducky to retire so he can come back to work for us?"

"Ideally, yeah, but he says he knows Ducky'd die before he'd retire." Abby reaches for the stack of papers she left on the coffee table and begins idly flicking through them.

Gibbs knows it's the truth. Ducky's approaching his mid-seventies, but he loves his job, and to him 'retirement' is a dirty word. NCIS' budget was too small for two full-time medical examiners, but Palmer didn't take the decision to leave lightly. It must be over ten years since he left the Navy Yard, but it doesn't seem that long to Gibbs.

The same thought's going through Abby's mind. Cocking her head to one side, she says, "Hmm. That came around fast."

"What did?"

"It's been twenty years this month since you hired me."

With a quick mental calculation, he realises she's right, and the thought takes him by surprise. After his disastrous track record with women, three divorces, countless girlfriends driven away… along came Abby. She's been a constant in his life for twenty years, far longer than any other woman he's been with.

***

**Introductions**

_April 2nd, 2001_

"You haven't met the new forensic scientist yet, have you, Gibbs?" Director Morrow looks over at him as he presses the down button on the elevator, his face carefully unreadable. Gibbs has worked with the man for enough years to know there's something about the new lab tech that will surprise him. What, he's yet to find out.

"Been a little busy to go that far underground, sir." He doesn't spend much time in the labs. He's never had a head for science, and the new advances in technology that go along with the chemistry don't fuel his enthusiasm.

The elevator stops, and the doors open. Gibbs is immediately struck by a wave of what can only be described as _noise_, and he casts a glance over at the Director. Morrow only raises an eyebrow, and Gibbs follows him into the lab, which is littered with dolls, electrical equipment and CDs. Of the new girl, there's no sign.

Gibbs picks up one of the dolls. It's wearing heavy black makeup and not a few piercings, and he sets it down again carefully, beginning to sense the reason behind Morrow's diplomatic countenance.

He yells over the music, "You said you headhunted her?"

Morrow allows himself a small smile as he nods. Then his eyes flick over Gibbs' shoulder, just as something knocks into him.

Turning, Gibbs instinctively puts a hand out to steady the whirlwind of red and black that spins to face him. A pair of startled green eyes looks up into his, and widen slightly as she takes him in. He's left with the impression of a slight, intrigued smile before she speaks.

"Sorry! I was kinda in my own world there." He lip-reads the words rather than hears them. She looks past him to where the Director is standing, and winces a little as she runs through to the office, muting the music that thunders through the lab.

"Abigail Sciuto, meet Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Morrow says dryly, not bothering to reprimand her.

She shakes Gibbs' hand with a smile, and he tries not to stare at her pigtails, dark makeup and crimson-and-black mini-dress. Only the white lab coat slung over one arm indicates that she might be a scientist. She's young and a little hyperactive, and he gets the impression she's assessing him in the same split-second that he's analysing her.

"Agent Gibbs…" She frowns at him for a second, but then her expression lightens. "The Moriarty case, right? I was just about to try and track you down. I have results."

Before he can reply, she addresses the Director. "Wait a sec. I have those forms you wanted." And then she's skittered into the back room again, leaving Gibbs to stare at Morrow in bemusement.

"You're telling me she knows forensics?"

"Give her a chance, Jethro."

Abby appears again, holding out a sheaf of completed forms to Morrow. "Sorry I didn't get them to you before. The guy who was here before me was a total slob – I'm in the middle of reorganising _everything_."

"Is there anything you need?"

"I get the feeling a new gas chromatograph's off the table…"

"It is."

She smiles, shrugs. "Never hurts to ask."

Morrow shakes his head, amused. "I'll leave you with Agent Gibbs. Let me know if you need anything less expensive."

As he heads for the elevator, Abby moves a pile of wires off her workbench and begins tapping commands into her computer. "Okay. So I ran the prints through AFIS, which, by the way, is my _favourite_ database in the entire world, and I came up with… _this_."

The result blinks up on screen, and Gibbs leans closer to read the small print. "Ex-Petty Officer Damian Curtis." He interviewed the guy earlier in the case, and something didn't sit well with him. Now he has a little more to work on. "Good job."

Without wasting time on small talk, he turns and makes for the door. Her next words bring him up short. "And yeah, I _do_ know forensics. I have a post-grad degree in forensic sciences and I graduated second in my class. I drink so much caffeine that I hardly sleep, and trust me, that's a good thing from what I've heard about working here. You wouldn't be judging a book by its cover, now would you, Agent Gibbs?"

With most people, he'd be irritated. But this paradoxically cheerful Goth woman speaks the words almost flippantly, as if she doesn't particularly care what he thinks of her, and that racks up a few points in her favour.

Something bugs him about the emphatic gestures that accompany her words. They seem almost familiar… A split-second later, he realises they form disjointed words in sign language – not clear, coherent sentences but the odd word tossed in here and there.

Interesting.

_Point taken_, he signs to her instead of replying out loud, and her eyebrows shoot up.

_You sign?_

He only nods and leaves her to her work. Behind him, he hears an indrawn breath, as if she was about to call out after him but has thought better of it. As he steps into the elevator, the wall of noise hits him again, and he glances back to find her looking after him thoughtfully. When their eyes meet, she grins, waving until the elevator doors shut after him.

Only when he's alone does he allow himself to laugh softly. She's a piece of work. If her forensic methods are half as arresting as her personality, he can see why the Director's willing to let her flout the dress code so openly.

***

**This one'll be multi-chaptered. Any thoughts?**


	2. Tension

**Author's Note**: Thank you for the lovely comments, everyone! I love writing first-meeting Gabby, there are so many ways it could have played out. We now have a connected phone line in our apartment, but we don't want to set up an internet connection until we've sorted out some stuff with the phone company, so the saga continues… *rolls eyes* Anyway. This chapter is possibly a little OOC, but I just don't see Gibbs and Abby getting along from the word 'go' – the relationship they have would take time to build up. IMO, anyway. Let me know if there's anything that jars you and I'll take a look at it. :)

***

_April 14th, 2021_

"You had me at 'point taken'," Abby teases him.

Gibbs remembers it differently. "You hated me back then."

She shakes her head. "I never hated you, Gibbs. It just took a little time for our personalities to stop clashing, that's all."

"Understatement."

She giggles. "Do you remember the time I quit?"

He'd almost forgotten, but her words bring the memory to the forefront of his mind. It was just under a year into her employment, and they haven't argued quite so spectacularly in the nineteen years since.

***

**Tension**

_March 22__nd__, 2002_

"I need those results, Abby."

"Yeah?" she mutters, stalking past him into her office. "Well, you know what I need, Gibbs? Some breathing room! I told you before, it's gonna take at least another two hours!"

Gibbs doesn't have time to sit around and wait for results. A warrant is riding on this DNA match, and his patience is wearing thin. "Work faster."

They don't get on at the best of times, mainly because she refuses to let him push her around. On this particular day, the edge to his voice shatters her self-control, and she steps into his personal space, fury radiating from her.

"Work _faster_? I have been here since five a.m., and I haven't eaten all day because I've been working my butt off trying to get you something you can use. Science takes time, Gibbs! How many times do I have to explain this to you?"

He holds her fiery gaze with his own icy glare, beginning to lose his cool in earnest. "Maybe if you quit yelling at me and put more into your work, you'd get a result quicker."

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she strides away from him, her huge boots strangely silent against the tiles. "And maybe if you learned to chill out and not expect miracles, you wouldn't come up against so much resistance!" Her fingers tap out an angry rhythm onto her keyboard as she brings up a search window. "See that?"

The bar at the bottom of the screen is only two-thirds filled, informing him that there's still thirty-one per cent of the database still to search. Before he can reply, Abby begins again. "This computer can only work at a certain speed. My budget is _woefully_ small, and I can't afford to upgrade it. I can't make this happen any faster, Gibbs! Unless you wanna go off and invent me a time machine so I can skip a couple of hours ahead and then come back and tell you what the search throws up, there is _nothing_ I can do!"

Intellectually, he knows she's right, but he's tired, he's under pressure from the Director and the victim's family alike, and right now he's pissed off. "If I were you, I'd check that attitude," he warns her in a low growl.

Abby stares at him as if she can't believe what she's hearing. "Check _my_ attitude?! You know what? Screw this."

She picks up the phone and dials a number without looking at him. "Helen, hey. Is Director Morrow in his office?" As her intention begins to dawn on Gibbs, she listens to the reply. "No, it's okay. I'm coming up."

Slamming down the phone, she tells Gibbs, "Maybe you'll have more luck with whoever they get in to replace me." With that, she leaves the lab, her shoulders set angrily.

Gibbs returns to his desk, letting his temper cool and rational thought to encroach upon his exasperation. When his cell rings and the Director summons him up to his office, he isn't surprised.

He half expects Abby to be there, but when he arrives it's just he and Morrow. "Take a seat, Jethro."

Gibbs does, and the Director watches him impassively. "You want to explain to me why I've just had to talk Abby Sciuto out of resigning?"

In the back of his mind, Gibbs finds that he's glad she's let herself be persuaded to stay. "Difference of opinion, sir."

"Quite," Morrow says dryly, giving his subordinate a knowing look. "I'll level with you, Jethro. I don't want to lose this one – she's damn good at her job. Now, I've told her that she needs to tolerate you a little more, but that goes both ways. Don't antagonise her. She manages to get along just fine with everyone else in the agency – maybe you should think about that."

Gibbs only nods, and Morrow looks a little off-balance, as if he'd expected to come up against more resistance. "Dismissed," he says, and Gibbs heads for the elevator, hitting the button for the ground floor.

***

Abby looks up as her computer beeps, sighing when she realises the result's come in for Gibbs. She isn't looking forward to speaking to him again, but what choice does she have?

She prints out the result and crosses to her phone, laying a hand on the receiver. Before she can pick it up, footsteps sound behind her, and she glances around to watch Gibbs approach. She has no idea what she thinks about this guy – on the one hand, he sets every bone in her body tingling, and she has enormous respect for the way he gets things done. On the flipside, though, he's an arrogant, unreasonable ass.

He deposits a cup of Caf-Pow! and a store-bought sandwich on her workbench, and she tries not to let her confusion show, although her stomach grumbles at the sight of the food. In response, she holds out the printout of the DNA result, and he takes it from her with a slight smile, leaving the office without saying a word.

Abby stares at the sandwich, trying to reconcile the peace offering with the brash, abrupt manner she's so used to receiving from Gibbs. _Guess there's more to him than I thought._

It isn't until she takes a bite of the first meal she's had all day that she realises she's grinning from ear to ear.


	3. Bribery

**Author's Note**: Phew! So glad no one thought I was way out with the Gabby arguing. Thanks for the feedback, all. :) Now we get a little closer to the way things are in the show.

***

_April 14__th__, 2021_

"That was the first time you bought me Caf-Pow!," Abby recalls, smiling at the memory.

"Definitely wasn't the last," Gibbs says, and she laughs, grabbing his coffee again. He lets her get away with it – it's just barely lukewarm, and for some reason she likes it that way.

She furrows her brow, trying to remember. "How long did it take me to come around to you after that?"

"Not long. Took you out for your birthday the next year," he points out.

***

**Bribery**

_March 6__th__, 2003_

"It's your birthday?"

Gibbs' voice scares the hell out of her, and she yelps, spinning to face him. "Geez, don't do that!"

They've been working together for almost two years, and although they've put aside their differences and formed a solid friendship, she still hasn't gotten used to his silent approaches. Maybe she never will.

Gibbs reaches out to examine the bouquet of black and silver balloons hovering at the side of the workbench. "You kept this quiet."

"I don't even know how Ducky knew. I think he's been snooping around in my personnel file – you should talk to him, Gibbs."

"Shoulda told me," he says, watching her spin a screwdriver in her fingers. "Would've gotten you a gift."

She tries to hide her surprise, but he can read her pretty well. "It's not actually until tomorrow, but it's the weekend, so Ducky gave them to me early. Anyway, you didn't come down here to talk about birthdays. What can I do for you?"

"You get a fingerprint match yet?" Gibbs asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer.

Abby scuffs a foot against the tiles. "I, uh… hit a little snag."

"Uh-huh." He looks past her to the various electronic parts strewn across the workbench and floor.

"I was about halfway through the search," she hastens to explain, dropping to her knees beside the biggest, most recognisable part of the computer processor, "when my baby shorted out."

"Your baby?"

"My baby," she repeats, patting the guts of the unit as if it's obvious. A split-second later, she winces, examining the finger she's caught on a rough edge before instinctively sticking it in her mouth. "And she's not responding to treatment so far, Dr Gibbs. Sorry. I'm gonna need more time with the patient."

"Relax, Abbs," Gibbs says, pulling her to her feet. "It's a cold case. No rush for the results."

Some of her apprehension fades, and she nods. "My head's spinning from trying to figure out what went wrong. It's not the software, it's the hardware, and everything _looks_ fine. I think I need component upgrades."

He has no idea what she just said, but he's pretty sure of the correct response. "Not in the budget," he reminds her, probably for the tenth time this year so far.

"Not even on my birthday?" she asks plaintively, and he shakes his head, amused.

"Director's rules, not mine."

"I know," she grumbles, reaching for a smaller screwdriver. "I'll let you know as soon as I have something. Guess we're lucky it's a quiet day, huh?"

He nods and heads for the door, glancing back when he hears her weary sigh. She's sitting amid her computer parts again, looking dejected, and he feels a stirring of sympathy for her. "Get me a match in the next few hours and I'll buy you a birthday dinner."

If she was mildly surprised earlier, she's all the way gone now. "Do you use this much bribery on your agents?" she teases.

"Nah. Slapping them round the back of the head works better."

She giggles as he leaves the lab. As he waits for the elevator, he hears her talk to the machine beside her. "C'mon, you heap of junk. Talk to Momma."

***

_Late that night…_

"You sleep in a coffin?" Gibbs always knew she was into some pretty extreme stuff, but this is beyond what he'd expected.

"No word of a lie," she confirms, grinning, as he pulls up outside her apartment building.

"Where'd you get it?"

"I bought it." Her words are matter-of-fact. "I worked part-time at a funeral home while I was going through high school, so I got a good deal." Somehow, this doesn't surprise him.

She unbuckles her seatbelt, casting a glance out of the car window at her building. "Wanna come up?"

Though he's curious to see what her apartment looks like, he shakes his head. "Another time."

She's not offended by the refusal, shrugging and smiling. "Thanks for dinner, Gibbs. I had fun."

So has Gibbs – more fun than he'd expected. Though they always have plenty to talk about in a work environment, he'd wondered at whether that would carry over to tonight. He needn't have worried. Abby's a lively conversationalist and seems to know a little about everything, and the time has flown by faster than he expected it would.

"Have a good birthday tomorrow," he tells her, and is caught off guard when she leans over and hugs him in thanks, almost squeezing the air from his lungs.

His response is hesitant – he's never been comfortable with this much friendly affection – and when she draws back, she's obviously amused. "I shoulda guessed you don't hug. Trust me, in a few months you'll be used to it."

Gibbs just watches her, and she picks up on his tolerant scepticism. "Maybe a few years. Anyway. Have a good weekend!"

"You too," he replies, and she jumps out of the car, heading up the steps to the front doors with a quick wave.


	4. Refuge

**Author's Note**: Now it's time for yet ANOTHER Abby-and-Gibbs-get-together scenario from me… I worked this out, and I've actually written seventeen of these now. I'm thinking soon I need to start writing established-Gabby fics or else run out of ideas altogether. XD Thanks as always for the comments, people. You really brighten my day!

***

_April 14__th__, 2021_

Abby sighs, looking down at her court suit with disdain. "I'm gonna go change into something a little less hideous."

Gibbs watches her disappear into the hallway, shaking his head. It would be useless to point out to her that suits do come in dark colours and can be tailored to look flattering. He once heard Kate make the same comment, and her response was typically Abby. "I know, but court is full of people in black suits. There's no way I'm gonna blend in and look like a lawyer! I'd rather wear this and feel ridiculous and keep a little individuality."

Ten minutes later, she's running down the stairs again, and he knows from her energetic approach that she's feeling more herself already.

"Gibbs?" Abby asks, dropping back down onto the couch dressed in her usual black pants and shirt. "When did we actually get together?"

He can tell it's been bugging her for the entire time she's been out of the room. "'07." She blinks up at him, surprised by his certainty, and he elaborates. "It was just after the case with Stephanie."

Abby nods, stifling a laugh. He knows the reason for her amusement – the week before he came to her, he'd been handed an investigation that he'd rather forget.

***

**Refuge**

_October 9__th__, 2007 _

"Train wreck," DiNozzo mutters to Ziva, watching three of the women in Gibbs' life converge on him.

Jenny and Hollis managed to bond over his shortcomings a while ago, and adding Stephanie's bitterness to the mix hasn't improved matters. Not only that, but Hollis has picked now to challenge him about Shannon and Kelly. Gibbs is feeling decidedly uncharitable toward the fairer sex right now.

Most women are pack animals, and as Gibbs makes his escape into the elevator he hits the button for the lab, seeking out the exception to the rule. Abby's always been a lone wolf, more comfortable in the company of men than women, and right now he needs that.

As he steps out of the elevator he almost runs into the DIA guy sent to oversee Abby's work. Gibbs can't remember what his name is, and he doesn't care. Without stopping to acknowledge the man, he strides into the lab.

Abby looks up from her computer, her eyes lighting up when she sees him. Something about his expression must be off, because she grabs his hand. "It's okay! I'll hide you!" She yanks him through to her office, locking the sliding glass door behind them and pulling him out of sight of the hallway.

"Abby…" Gibbs warns her, but his heart isn't in it.

He can't help but grin as she crouches, peering around the corner as if she's scoping out a trigger-happy suspect with a machine gun. "So how_ is_ Mrs Ex-Gibbs Number Three?"

He pulls her to her feet. "Pissed. And forming alliances."

She winces, imagining the situation. "I could practically hear them baying for your blood from here."

Despite everything, Gibbs feels his dark mood begin to lighten at her melodramatic commentary. Abby is a completely different breed to the women he tends to gravitate toward, exuding warmth and light-hearted humour. She cuts through the bullshit that most women get hung up on, bringing a quirky, original perspective to life, and the result is a breath of fresh air that Gibbs is hungry for right now.

She casts a glance at him, wondering at his silence, and the corners of her lips turn up as she realises he's staring at her. "What?"

He shakes his head. "You get rid of that guy already?" he asks, indicating the elevator.

Abby unlocks the glass door, heading back to her computer, and he follows. "Fred? Nah, he's just on a Caf-Pow! run. He'll be back."

"How's the hard drive looking?"

She studies the screen, frowning. "Almost there, I think. Maybe. As soon as I know something, so will you."

He kisses her cheek, feeling the skin shift as her smile widens. "Thanks, Abbs."

She turns to watch him leave, calling after him, "For not being a redhead?"

_Or a blonde._ He thinks it, but keeps quiet.

"Good luck!" she yells as he steps into the elevator.

***

_October 13__th__, 2007_

Less than a week later, Gibbs is single – for various reasons – and working late to catch up on paperwork. The sound of his desk phone ringing at one a.m. jars his concentration, and he answers, wondering who'd be calling him here at this time of night. "Yeah."

"Yay, my hunch was right! You're still here!"

Gibbs smiles at the sound of Abby's voice, which is exuberant even at this late hour. He leans back in his chair, taking a welcome break. "What're you doing here so late, Abbs?"

"I was kinda on a roll, so I just kept going. That DNA match I told you had to wait until morning? It just came through."

"Be right down," he tells her, and hangs up.

En route to her lab, his thoughts return to the place they've been hovering since Stephanie's case. He can't explain it, but since he was simultaneously faced with three of the women he'd been romantically entangled with, something has shifted in the way he perceives Abby.

The entire office knows that she's his 'favourite', but lately he feels something more for her than fondness. Over the past few days her open, unguarded smiles have captivated him, and her low, husky voice has seemed impossibly seductive. It's as if spending time with her within minutes of sparring with Hollis, Jenny and Stephanie has lifted a fog clouding his mind, and he sees her clearly for the first time in six years.

He hasn't decided what to do about it.

When he arrives she's hopping up and down in front of her refrigeration units, focused on the task of trying to reach a soft toy that's inexplicably just out of her reach.

"Need a hand?" he asks, and she quits jumping.

"I swear, boredom is gonna be my undoing one day. I start throwing things around, they get stuck in hard-to-reach places…"

Gibbs reaches up and rescues the toy, his height making the task easy. Abby takes it from him, brushing the dust off it, and sets it down on her workbench. The light from her computer screen shines through the dimly-lit lab, casting a glow across the spiderweb tattoo adorning her slender neck. "Thanks, Gibbs. Don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you around..."

As she turns to face him, he steps in close and kisses her, unable to help himself. Her eyes widen, then drift shut as she leans into the embrace, her arms slipping around his neck. He draws the moment out, storing away the memory of her lips on his, her body pressing against him, before pulling away.

"What was that for?" she murmurs, and the hope in her expression gives him the encouragement he seeks.

There are a hundred ways he could respond, but they're all more DiNozzo's style than his. "You got a match for me?" he asks quietly, and she steps out of his arms, her huge smile telling him that she's reading between the lines.

She outlines the result softly, watching his reaction as he takes in the information. He waits for her to finish before murmuring, "Good job." Her eyes spark as she anticipates his next move, and he doesn't disappoint her, kissing his way across her cheekbone down to her lips once more.

When they break, Abby's smiling. "I should work overtime more often."


	5. Anchor

**Author's Note**: Hi, all – thanks for the feedback! It's so annoying that I don't have the internet time to reply to reviews at the moment. I would if I could, I swear! Spoilers for _Judgment Day_ and _Last Man Standing_ in this chapter. I'm hoping I didn't go too sappy toward the end – if I have, yell at me!

***

_April 14th__, 2021_

"You know what the weird thing is?" Abby asks, resting her head on Gibbs' shoulder. "I never thought it'd last this long. The first few months, I was totally convinced it was all gonna fall apart."

He nods, remembering the same feeling. They'd kept things agonisingly casual for six months or so, wary of ruining their friendship, keeping the pressure off each other and pretending it'd be no big deal if it were all to end tomorrow.

It was the abrupt shattering of life as they knew it that changed that.

***

**Anchor**

_May 20th, 2008_

Jenny's murder hits him hard. Though they were never as close after the disastrous end to their relationship, there was still a connection between them, one of respect, familiarity and friendship rather than passion. A forgotten ghost from their distant past reappeared to strike when they least expected it, and Gibbs is left to deal with the aftermath, completely blindsided.

He hasn't stopped since it happened, hasn't let himself think. And now the funeral is over, he's standing in Jenny's office, staring at the folders Leon Vance is holding out toward him.

"Meet your new team."

He can feel the dismayed eyes of his three agents on his back, feel their silent entreaties for him to somehow get them out of this.

"Can you give me a second with _Director_ Vance?" he asks them, not bothering to look around. He waits, listening to the sounds of Ziva, McGee and DiNozzo leaving the room, and when the door closes behind them with a soft click, he opens the folders.

Michelle Lee – a lawyer, afraid of her own shadow.

Brent Langer – potentially a good agent if he'd just learn to follow damn orders.

Daniel Keating – currently assigned to the cyber-crimes unit, barely even field-rated.

"I appreciate you not doing this in front of them," Vance says, indicating the door.

Derision wells up within Gibbs, and he doesn't fight it. Throwing the folders down on the desk, he growls, "What the hell is this, Leon? This is barely a team – they'll get themselves killed within a week! Ziva's one of the biggest assets we have. McGee would be wasted stuck behind a computer all day. And if you want to punish DiNozzo-"

"This isn't a debate. I'm doing what's right for this agency," Vance cuts across him.

"What's right for the _agency_? Jenny's barely cold, and you're already trying to break up one of the most effective teams the DC office has? How the hell does this benefit anyone?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Agent Gibbs," Vance snaps, his calm demeanour beginning to destabilise. "I'm in charge now, and it's my prerogative to make changes as I see fit."

Gibbs doesn't want to do it, but he's backed into a corner, and there's no other choice. "Do this, Leon, and I'm going straight to CNN with how Jenny _really_ died. Think about that."

Without waiting for a reply, he makes for the door. His hand is on the doorknob when Vance's next words pull him up short. "That's your decision. Could you send Abby Sciuto up here when you see her? I hear the San Diego office is short a forensic scientist…"

Gibbs' entire body tenses with fury as he imagines Abby relocated, distanced from her home, from her friends and family, from him. Everyone who works here knows Abby is his weak spot, although they keep their personal relationship hidden.

Striding across the office again, he halts less than a foot from Vance. "You can screw with me all you want," he says, his voice dangerously soft, "but you leave Abby out of it. That's _not_ a request."

"Then I expect your full cooperation in this matter," Vance tells him, staring him out.

_God-damn him._

"This isn't over, Leon," he snarls, and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

As he passes MTAC and begins to descend the stairs to the squad-room, his eyes seek out the section where his team works. Ziva's sitting at her desk, staring at it as if memorising every object on it. McGee's standing beside her, fidgeting, and Tony's a little way off, crushed in one of Abby's hugs.

"Abbs, I can't breathe," he reminds her through gritted teeth, and she relaxes her grip a little, unwilling to let go of him, as if he'll be magically transported to the USS Ronald Reagan as soon as she does.

McGee notices Gibbs' approach first, and takes a step forward. "Boss?"

Ziva looks up, her body held perfectly still as she waits for the verdict. Abby releases Tony to watch him, tears in her eyes.

The hope and expectation in the air almost kill him. He's their superior; they rely on him, and he's let them down. For a second he even considers apologising, but he knows it would throw their worlds even further out of place. "It's set in stone."

Collectively, they release the breaths they've been holding, their disappointment palpable, and Gibbs feels a little more of himself grow numb and distant.

***

He's only been home for twenty minutes when the first set of footsteps sounds overhead. Ziva descends into the basement, leaning against the side of his boat without speaking. Though he hasn't invited her, he half-expected this would happen.

Ten seconds later, Ducky appears at the top of the stairs. "Jethro. Hope you don't mind the intrusion."

"You heard?"

His old friend nods. "News travels fast, I'm afraid."

Tony, McGee and Abby all arrive together, and they sit in the basement until late afternoon, dissecting the situation, trying to figure out a way to prevent the inevitable. No one touches upon the possibility of exposing the true circumstances of Jenny's death, and Gibbs doesn't bring it up.

Tempers flare and die down, frustration and sorrow are voiced, but they're no closer to a solution. After a while it becomes clear that there's no way out, and that in less than twenty-four hours Tony, Ziva and McGee will be dispatched to their new posts. Disheartened, they begin to leave in ones and twos, promising to converge later to say their final goodbyes, and soon only he and Abby remain.

"I hate feeling helpless," she tells Gibbs, picking at a dried droplet of varnish on the side of a tin with a fingernail.

"I know." The adrenaline that's been keeping him going finally dries up, and he sits on the edge of his workbench, sighing.

Abby takes a step toward him, her brow furrowed in concern. "You okay?"

He can't answer, and she interprets his silence as a warning not to push it. She's as discouraged as he is, and she only nods. "I'll be at my place if you need me."

He looks up as she takes a step toward the stairs. His team is in ruins, Jenny's dead… if there's one thing he needs right now, it's his girl. As she passes him, he puts a hand out to stop her. "Stay."

"You sure?" she asks hesitantly. "I know Director Shepard meant a lot to you. I thought you might wanna be alone-"

Gibbs pulls her into his arms before she can finish, holding her so tightly that her breath catches. With her body moulded against his, he feels a little of his pain drop away. She breathes in sync with him, comfort radiating from her skin to his, and he knows in that moment that without Abby, he'd be lost.

"I need you here, Abbs," he murmurs against his hair, and her arms tighten around him as if to reassure him that she's not going anywhere. When he kisses her, the pretences of the past few months fall away as they let their defences drop, finally revealing the depth of their feelings for each other.

He's determined to find a way to unite his team again – he just needs time to figure it out. Until then, Abby will anchor him, as she always has.


	6. Deal with the Devil

**Author's Note**: This one's a little shorter than usual… there wasn't much to pad it out with, but hey, it's a milestone! I now have writer's block, so I might be a while updating. :/ Angsty Gibbs is quite hard to nail...

***

_April 14__th__, 2021_

"So we've known each other twenty years, been together thirteen… that'd mean I've been living here eleven years, right?"

Gibbs nods, looking around the living room. Abby's influence definitely shows: between ex-wives, this room had housed a couch and a cheap coffee table, but not much else. The time he spent at home had been divided between sleeping and working on his boat in the basement – he hadn't bothered refurnishing after Stephanie moved out, taking her possessions and more than a few of his.

Now the room's full of shelves of books, CDs, DVDs; a large TV stands in one corner. He drew the line at letting Abby paint the walls black, but there's a Gothic look to the furniture and furnishings.

The overall effect isn't something Gibbs would have opted for, but it's a good balance between masculine and feminine, and more importantly, there isn't a flower motif in sight. It took him a few weeks to get used to, but now he hardly notices it.

***

**Deal with the Devil**

_November 11__th__, 2010_

"Okay, that's it, I can't take it any more!" Scowling at the ceiling, Abby throws down the letter she's been reading on the coffee table. "My lease on this apartment's up at the end of the month, and I'm so not gonna renew it."

Gibbs picks up the letter, scanning through its contents. "'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live'?"

She sighs. "By 'witch' they mean 'Satanist'. Which is what I am, according to the couple who just moved in upstairs. They've been sending me hate-mail. I wear black, so obviously it's only a matter of time before I start sacrificing goats and dedicating myself to the service of the devil."

Gibbs watches her, sensing more to the story. "You usually enjoy it when this stuff happens."

Abby fidgets uncomfortably, shrugging. "I dunno. I ran into the woman in the hall a couple of days ago, and she had this crazed look in her eyes. I mean, like Mikel Mawher crazy. He's still inside, right?"

She asks this question every few months. Gibbs has requested regular updates on Mawher's incarceration, keeping track of her psychotically-obsessed ex-boyfriend, so when he answers he's sure he's correct. "Yeah."

Abby takes a relieved breath before continuing. "I don't know if she's the kind of crazy who'd do anything about it, but she's making me edgy for some reason. So I think I'm gonna move on. I was getting kinda bored of this apartment anyway."

"Why not move into my place?" he suggests, and she stares up at him, startled.

"Gibbs, you'd…" She takes a second to collect her thoughts, wonderment crossing her features. "I never thought you'd…"

"If I'm not at your place, you're over at mine," he says. "Seems the most logical solution."

Abby hesitates for a few more seconds, twirling a pigtail around her finger as she considers. "I hardly sleep."

"Neither do I."

"You hate my music, and I listen to it really loud."

"I spend most of my time in the basement. I can just shut the door behind me."

"I have so much junk."

"The house is practically empty," he reminds her, and she inclines her head, conceding the point. "If you don't want to, Abbs, just say so. I'm not gonna be offended."

She shakes her head vigorously, her eyes wide. "I do want to! I just wanna let you know what you're getting into. I shared a house with some people at college, and they told me I was kinda difficult to live with."

"You're telling this to the guy who's been divorced three times," he points out, and she can't conceal her smile.

"Are you sure?" He feels her body tense, as if she's afraid he'll retract his offer.

Gibbs kisses her in response, and she wraps herself around him, pushing him back against the couch cushions with the force of her kiss. When they break for air, she grins wickedly at him. "Looks like you just made a deal with the devil."

If someone had told him ten years ago that one day he'd be living in sin with a hyperactive Goth scientist twenty years his junior, he'd have laughed himself into a coma. Now, he doesn't even stop to analyse it. The connection between he and Abby is so strong, so indisputable, that it's beyond question. "I think I can live with that."


	7. Perspective

**Author's Note**: YAAAAY! I have my internet back! ^_^ I'm now frantically downloading the season six episodes that I haven't been able to watch while I was away... Also, on Wednesday I'm away (those of you on my LiveJournal will know why) for probably about two weeks. So I won't be around for a while. But when I come back, hopefully there'll be no more interruptions to my net-life!

_

* * *

_

April 14_th__, 2021_

Though he's comfortable where he is, with his arm wrapped around Abby, the irresistible lure of caffeine tempts Gibbs to stand up. "Want some coffee?"

Abby agrees, reaching for the TV remote as he leaves the room. He flicks on the kitchen light, and the first thing his gaze falls upon is the picture sitting on the windowsill.

A small smile touching his features, Gibbs picks it up, studying the expressions he already knows by heart. Shannon smiles back at him, her eyes full of genuine laughter, her arms curled affectionately around their daughter, her chin resting on the top of Kelly's head. Leaning back against her mother, Kelly beams at the camera, her long hair gathered into twin braids, a doll held in her lap.

Hard to believe it was over thirty years ago when this picture was taken. It had been their last Christmas together, right before his unit was deployed to Desert Storm. Now three decades have passed. Kelly would have been thirty-nine this year, probably married, perhaps even with children of her own.

Thinking about it doesn't bring the unstoppable surge of pain it did a few years ago. Gibbs will always miss them, will always grieve on some level, but time has repaired the raw wound he nursed for so long. Time, and words. Abby's words.

**

* * *

**

Perspective

_February 5__th__, 2011_

When he wakes, the knowledge of today's date hits him before he opens his eyes. The usual wave of pain and guilt crashes over him, and he sighs, forcing himself out of bed. Beside him, Abby stirs and rolls into the warm spot he vacated, but does not open her eyes.

Gibbs heads downstairs, into the kitchen, which is awash with morning sunlight. Waiting for the coffee to brew, he leans against the countertop, his mind a dark cloud of memories. Shannon, singing along to the radio and making pancakes. Kelly, chattering nineteen-to-the-dozen, a half-eaten bowl of cereal sitting, forgotten, in front of her. A typical breakfast-time.

It's been twenty years since his first wife and only child were murdered, since their driver was shot and the car they were travelling in spun out of control. Twenty years to the day since Gibbs was summoned by his commanding officer, twenty years since he heard the words, "Gunny… they're both dead."

He'd gone off to war to protect his country, leaving them vulnerable, and they'd died as a consequence.

He pours the coffee and heads down to the basement, pulling out the box that contains the family photo albums. A few pictures lie on the top, and he picks them up, gazing at each for long moments before moving on to the next. Shannon on horseback, her red hair tousled by the wind. Kelly sitting at the piano, her brow furrowed with concentration as Shannon smiles at the camera. Shannon and Gibbs on their wedding day, looking impossibly young, naïve and in love. Kelly, her mouth open in a silent shriek, half-euphoric, half-terrified, carried on Gibbs' shoulders.

"They're beautiful," Abby's quiet voice observes. "Both of them."

He glances across at her sharply; he'd been oblivious to her presence until now. She catches a glimpse of the raw pain on his face before he pulls his features under control, and draws in a breath. He's never let her see how deeply this affects him before, and hadn't meant to today.

She knows what significance this date holds, but this is the first time since she learned of Shannon and Kelly's existence that the anniversary of their death has fallen on a weekend. Usually he keeps himself busy, burying himself under whatever case his team is assigned that week, but this year he doesn't have that luxury.

Abby touches his shoulder briefly, keeping her distance, knowing that his mind is on Shannon. "I think you should talk about it."

His mind screams an instant refusal. "Back off, Abbs," he tells her, the words harsh but his tone free of malice.

"Gibbs, you're torturing yourself-" she tries, but he cuts her off, more forcefully this time.

"It's in the past."

"And you're distorting it," she tells him, her eyes sad.

He can't deal with this today. Biting back a wordless growl of frustration, he strides past her, up the stairs, not stopping until he gets to the second floor. She doesn't follow, giving him space for now, and he's glad of that.

Gibbs hesitates outside the room that was once Kelly's, steels himself, and walks in. He redecorated a couple of years after his daughter's death, transforming the space from an eight-year-old's refuge into a generic spare room, hoping it would help him to move past his grief. It didn't.

He stares out of the window, seeing nothing, his mind bogged down in memories. After a few minutes he registers Abby's presence again. Placing a fresh cup of coffee beside him, she curls up in the chair in the corner, keeping him company without words.

Eventually, he speaks, the tumult of emotions racing through his mind too much to keep inside. "I couldn't protect them."

Surprise sparks in her eyes – she didn't expect him to open up. It's swiftly followed by sympathy. "It wasn't your fault."

He shakes his head; he's heard the words so many times before that they hardly register. Abby rises from her seat in one fluid motion and crosses to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "I'm serious. You can't keep blaming yourself for this. They wouldn't have."

On some level, he knows she's right, but his guilt is firmly embedded in memories of the weekend he left them for the last time, and it refuses to budge. "She begged me not to go."

"Shannon?" Abby asks softly.

"Kelly." He speaks the name with difficulty; he rarely talks about them. "She was eight years old, and she was crying as I drove away. She was crying the last time I saw her alive."

Abby closes her eyes for a moment, as if his pain is her own. When she opens them, she tells him, "My dad used to come to DC on business trips when we lived in the South. He'd be gone for a few days, never more than a week, but every time, I'd cry and plead with him not to leave me."

She pauses, making sure she has his attention before continuing. "I'd get over it after a few hours, go and track down some friends, play with the dog, whatever. Sure, every now and then I'd remember, and I missed my dad when he wasn't there, but little girls always find stuff to do. They don't sit and mope, and they don't hold grudges.

"I know you lost them, and no one could have foreseen that. But if it hadn't happened, and you'd served out your deployment and then come home? Kelly would've been overjoyed to see you, and she wouldn't even remember being upset when you left. Wherever she is now, she's with Shannon and she doesn't blame you for the crash."

Gibbs is silent for long moments, letting her words sink in. Though he doubts it will change the way he feels, it helps to hear a perspective that's not the subjective twist of his own guilt. "Thanks, Abbs."

Obviously resisting the urge to hug him, Abby steps away, sitting back down in the chair. "Anytime."

He squeezes her hand on the way to the door, and leaves the room, needing some time to himself. Not long after he re-enters the basement, he hears the front door open and close, followed by the deep calm that signifies he has the house to himself.

Alone, he cracks open the photo albums again, slowly flicking through the pages. It had been one of Shannon's pet projects to organise the pictures in roughly chronological order, and he starts at the beginning with the pictures taken of them when they first met, wallowing in bittersweet memories. Here, their engagement party; there, their wedding day, followed immediately by honeymoon pictures. Next, Shannon, heavily pregnant, and then in the hospital, looking exhausted and cradling baby Kelly in her arms. The happiest day of both their lives.

He forces himself to keep going, pushing himself through the pain, snapshot after snapshot of Kelly as a baby, a toddler, her first day at school, birthdays, Christmases, vacations, until she's the bright, chirpy eight-year-old she was at the end of her life.

At the final page, he closes the album and spends the next five minutes staring at nothing. This is the first time in twenty years that he's been able to look through every picture he owns of his lost family. Maybe Abby's words have sunk in more than he thought.

An hour or so later, as he's attempting to distract himself by mulling over the case his team are in the middle of, Abby arrives home. Gibbs heads upstairs, suddenly feeling the need for company. Oblivious to his presence, she drops a shopping bag on the bed, pulls out an item of clothing, strips off her shirt and reaches for the new one. She glances in the mirror, notices his reflection and smiles slightly. "Hey."

He sits on the bed, watches her pull on the new shirt. He'd have to be insane not to notice her smooth, ink-marked skin and the alluring curves of her body – on any other day he'd distract her from getting dressed without a second thought. Today, with the ghost of his dead wife hovering at the front of his mind, he resists. "Looks good."

Analysing her reflection, Abby smiles at the compliment. "Thanks." Pulling at the price-tag on her sleeve, she sits beside him. "How's it going?"

"Ask me tomorrow."

She lays her head on his shoulder for an instant, wanting to show her support but wary of crossing boundaries. The gesture warms him, and as she begins to draw away he puts an arm around her.

"What were they like?" Abby asks softly.

Gibbs takes a breath to change the subject, then realises he doesn't want to. As Abby listens, asking questions when he falls silent, he shares some of his memories of Shannon and Kelly, memories untainted by the tragedy that ended their lives. The words come slowly at first, but the more he talks, the easier it gets. He even manages a slight smile as he relates Kelly's various ways of trying to persuade him that ice-cream for breakfast would be a good idea.

When his words run dry, he asks the question that's been at the back of his mind all day. "It doesn't bother you, to hear about them?"

He's known her for so long that he can tell when she's stretching the truth, and when she answers him, he knows she's being honest with him. "Are you kidding? No way! Me… them… it's apples and oranges. They were a huge part of your life – I don't expect you to act like they weren't. And if you want to put some of the pictures in the basement up around the house, I don't have a problem with it."

He doesn't think he's ready for that yet, but maybe one day he will be. He knows he has Abby to thank for that. "Abbs…"

He doesn't have the words for what he wants to say, but she sums it up, amused. "I know. You love me and I'm amazing."

Gibbs kisses her cheek, biting back laughter. "I'll make us some coffee."


	8. Candlelight

**Author's Note**: Yeah, I know... this one's really short. But the chapter after it is longer, I promise! And I get the feeling it's going to make some people rather happy. Whereas this chapter might disappoint those same people. :/ And I can start replying to reviews again now - whoo hoo! A general thank you for the feedback, anyway. *hugs to all*

_

* * *

_

A_pril 14__th__, 2021_

When he returns to the living room with the coffee, Abby mutes the TV, leaving the news headlines scrolling across the screen. Taking a mug from Gibbs, she curls her legs under her, turning her attention to him again. "They're threatening power cuts again."

"We'll cope," he replies, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

"_You'd _cope. My head explodes if I don't get to check my email at least six times a day."

"Love to see Ducky do the autopsy on that one," he deadpans, and she sends a mock glare his way.

"I guess we survived the last power cut," she says, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

**

* * *

**

Candlelight

_November 7__th__, 2012_

The storms have been raging all week, and when the power goes out, plunging the house into darkness, Gibbs isn't surprised. The benefit of living with Abby is that there are always plenty of candles around, and she jumps into action right away, collecting about twenty of them and positioning them around the living room.

As she leans forward to light the ones on the coffee table, he watches her face in the flickering candlelight. The dim glow accentuates the dark makeup she wears, and he finds himself thinking that she's never looked more like herself.

"Don't even think about it."

Her words take him by surprise. "Think about what?"

Abby finishes with the candles and waits out a peal of thunder before answering. "Asking me to marry you. I know that look in your eye, Gibbs."

He's been idly considering it – not right at that moment, and he hasn't made any concrete plans, but he's let it cross his mind more than once.

"Don't get me wrong," she rushes on. "It's not that I don't wanna be with you forever and ever and ever. Cause I do. But marriage has all these expectations, y'know? It puts pressure on, you feel trapped, then you argue, things go wrong… Plus, if I married _you_ I'd be dooming us, cause you're totally cursed."

Unable to summon the irritation he knows he should be feeling, he pulls her into his arms. "You never dreamed about being married as a kid?"

She shakes her head without hesitation. "I think the white dresses put me off when I was young, and then the whole teenage 'fuck the system' attitude came in, and by the time I was old enough to get married I just realised I didn't want to. I mean, if you love someone, why do you need to spend thousands of dollars to take part in an archaic ceremony to prove it?"

Gibbs has to admit she has a point.

"Plus," she adds as an afterthought, getting up and wandering over to the window to watch the driving rain, "there's no way you'd dance to the song I'd want for _my_ first dance."

He doesn't even want to ask. "Think the power'll be out for long?"

Abby stays at the window for a couple of seconds more, just long enough for a flash of lightning to illuminate her face. As the accompanying thunder crashes, she returns to the couch. "Probably for a while. And you know how bored I get without technology, Gibbs. You're gonna have to entertain me."

Gibbs pulls her into his lap, and she kisses him hungrily, fingertips running through his hair. When they break for air, he asks her, "How was that?"

She pretends to think about it. "It's a start," she tells him with a wicked grin.

He kisses her until she's gasping for breath, and she purrs contentedly. "Getting better…"

Gibbs overbalances her so that she's lying across the couch, pushing up her shirt to cover her stomach in soft kisses. Her skin ripples with pleasure, glowing in the candlelight, and she sighs happily. "Now you're gettin' it."

"You're feisty tonight," he observes, not for the first time.

She giggles. "I'm feeling like a heretic. All this living in sin's getting me hot."

"Then we're never getting married," he tells her, pulling her shirt up over her head.


	9. Reconsidering

**Author's Note**: I really, really never thought the fic would go in this direction. It's not really my thing. But here it is, and I might as well see where it leads me. And I get the feeling this will please more people than it pisses off. ;)

_

* * *

_

April 14th, 2021

Gibbs smiles at the memory. "And four years later it was a whole different story."

Abby grins a little sheepishly as he takes her left hand, studying the tiny image of a burning candle tattooed on her ring finger. Of all her tattoos, this one is his favourite. She'd gotten it the week after the power cut, a permanent mark in place of a wedding ring.

Or so she'd meant it to be.

**

* * *

**

Reconsidering

_August 7__th__, 2016_

With a faint smile, Abby watches Gibbs scowl at his computer screen, hitting a few keys before sitting back in frustration. She's been leaning on the partition beside Tony's desk for a couple of minutes, observing him from afar, amused that he's so absorbed in his work that he hasn't realised she's there. It takes a lot of skill to sneak up on Gibbs, and after fifteen years she's finally managed it.

As if reading her mind, he glances up, his expression softening a little as he notices her. "I was just about to call you."

From the faint blue gleam reflecting from his reading glasses – which he has to wear more and more these days – she thinks she can guess why. "Gibbs, how long have you been using computers?" she asks, grinning as she walks over and confirms that his machine has thrown up its weekly case of Blue-Screen-of-Death.

He slides his chair sideways a little, allowing her access to the computer tower, which she hard reboots. "Long enough to know that screen isn't good."

She sits on the edge of his desk while she waits for the computer to do its thing, overwhelmed with love for this man and his complete ignorance of any technology invented after the VCR. Sometimes she's stunned that he hasn't managed to pick up anything except the basics in all the years he's been an agent, but she wouldn't change that detail about him for the world.

"Still having a slow day?" she asks.

Gibbs nods. "Might actually leave the office by five-thirty for a change."

Her eyebrows lift: she can't remember the last time that happened. "Sounds like an occasion to celebrate. Wanna get takeout?"

He considers it, then shakes his head. "I'll cook."

"Sweet and sour chicken?" She loves it when Gibbs cooks, and he knows it. Their lives are so busy that it happens rarely, but his culinary skills are surprisingly sharp, she guesses from all the time he's spent fending for himself between ex-wives.

Gibbs nods in response to her request, his eyes on the computer screen as it finishes loading up the desktop. "I was working on a report. Did I lose it?"

Abby shakes her head in mock indignation. "How long have we been working together? There's not a file on this server I can't find…" It's as simple as opening the word processing document and loading up the auto-recover file, but it amuses her to make a bigger deal out of it than it is.

She takes control of the mouse, but the on-screen cursor won't move. Acting on a hunch, she drops to her knees and crawls under the desk, reaching around behind the tower to check for loose connections. How it's possible for Gibbs to have wrenched the USB cable out of its socket, she has no idea, but somehow he's managed it. Reconnecting the device, she hears the tiny confirmation beep from the system and bites back another smile.

When she crawls back out from under the desk, Gibbs is watching her, looking slightly bemused, and she remains on the floor for the moment, gazing up at him. This is a typical day in their lives, and she loves it. She'd have to be crazy not to. And she never wants to let go.

As the idea hits her, she cocks her head to the side, letting it bloom, and Gibbs asks affectionately, "What?"

It doesn't occur to her to be nervous. She's already sure of his answer. "Wanna marry me?"

A variety of emotions pass over his face in a split-second. A casual observer might think he hardly reacts, but Abby can read each expression with rapid clarity: surprise, joy, curiosity, love. "Thought you didn't want to risk it."

"I changed my mind," she says softly.

He pulls her up onto her feet, kissing her right there in the squad room. Most of the agents are on their lunch breaks, and the majority of the rest are too wrapped up in their work to take notice of the mini-drama unfolding across the room, but Abby feels a thrill of excitement from the public display of affection nevertheless.

"Would've crashed my computer about five years ago if I knew this was gonna happen," he teases her, not bothering to dignify the question with an answer. They both know it's 'yes'. Abby isn't one for symbolism, and Gibbs isn't one for melodrama.

"You crashed it last week," she reminds him, her voice thick with amusement, leaning over to open the report that he was working on when the machine died.

He pauses, letting her remark pass without comment, before changing the subject. "What changed your mind?"

It's too complicated for her to condense into a simple explanation. Instead, she shrugs. "I had a moment of clarity."

Before Gibbs can reply, her cell rings. Pulling it out of her pocket, she checks the caller ID. "Hey, McGee."

"I got in – come down and take a look," her friend tells her, his voice triumphant.

"You did? Be right down." Ending the call, she tells Gibbs, "McGee cracked the encryption on Morrison's hard drive. We'll start going through it now and let you know if there's anything hinky."

Gibbs nods, squeezing her hand as she passes the desk. As she takes the first few steps toward the rear elevator, she calls back to him, "You know I'm gonna wear black, right?"

"Be disappointed if you didn't," he replies as she vanishes around the corner.


	10. Vows

**Author's Note**: This was more fun to write than I thought it would be. ^_^ Gotta love a good wedding. Thanks so much, Kay, for pulling me up on the Washington thing. *blush*

* * *

_April 14__th__, 2021_

Abby examines the wedding ring that partially covers her candle tattoo, a gold band complete with a swirl of black jet. "I'm kinda disappointed. Ziva caught my bouquet when I threw it, but she hasn't married Tony yet."

"I don't think their relationship's that serious, Abbs."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, sure. The same way ours wasn't for the first few months. They'll be together forever."

Gibbs shakes his head, amused. DiNozzo and Ziva are forever breaking up and getting back together. If they got married, they'd be divorced within two months. "Our wedding wasn't enough for you? Now you want to watch everyone else's?"

She grins. "Our wedding was more than enough for me."

* * *

**Vows**

_June 3__rd__, 2017_

"What if he doesn't like it? What if this is too weird and freaky for him? What if-"

"Abby!" Ziva's voice cuts through her tirade. "You have been together eight years. He knows what he is getting, and he loves you. Calm down." Her friend hands her a bouquet of black roses with a smile. "You will be fine."

Abby takes a deep breath, eyeing herself in the full-length mirror. In place of the traditional white wedding dress, she's wearing a long, black gown, opaque satin until it reaches her mid-thighs. From there down to her ankles is lace, the pale hue of her skin shining through the material.

"How do I look?" she asks Ziva.

Ziva smiles, handing her the funeral veil Abby found in a thrift store a while back. "Evil."

Abby giggles, adjusting the veil. "Cool."

They head out to the hearse, where Abby's father is waiting. Together, they pile into the oversized vehicle and begin to drive out to the church Abby handpicked for the wedding: a burned-out shell that was hit by arsonists a couple of years ago.

As the hearse draws closer, Ziva gazes out of the window, looking up at the ruin. "I expected it to be more run-down."

Abby grins. "It's so atmospheric and spooky… it's perfect. Especially at sunset."

They park the hearse around the corner from where the outdoor ceremony's to be held, and Ziva looks up at the orange-tinted sky. "Good timing. Are you nervous?"

Abby fidgets. "A little."

"Good luck," Ziva tells her, and Abby gives her a spontaneous hug. Ziva's learned to accept the tokens of affection, although she still hesitates to initiate them. "I will let everyone know you are here."

Abby watches her disappear around the corner, then turns to her father. _Ready? _she signs.

Daniel Sciuto nods, his eyes bright with pride. _You look beautiful, darling._

Glowing with excitement and anticipation, Abby holds out her arm. Daniel takes it, and together they begin to walk toward the wedding.

As they turn the corner and the ceremony comes into view, the band strikes up. It's a classical version of a song Abby loves, inoffensive to her guests but still pretty cool. All eyes turn to watch her approach, and a murmur of admiration goes through the crowd as they take in her dress.

Abby's eyes immediately seek out Gibbs, standing at the end of the open-air 'aisle'. His eyes sweep over her as she moves toward him, and at his appreciative half-smile she breaks into a full-on grin.

Daniel releases her arm, and Abby kisses his cheek before he joins Gloria in the front row. She faces Gibbs, feeling more energised than if she'd just finished her tenth Caf-Pow! of the day.

A hush falls over the gathering as the pastor begins to speak. "Dearly beloved..."

As he goes through the traditional litany, Abby watches Gibbs' face, wondering if he knows the entire thing off by heart yet. By the fifth marriage, she wouldn't be surprised. The thought amuses her, and she bites her tongue to stifle a giggle.

Gibbs notices and raises his eyebrows in a question. She innocently turns her gaze toward the pastor, knowing he'll ask her about it later.

"If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace."

The stillness is absolute. No one says a word. Gibbs would probably shoot them if they did… Abby bites back another giggle at the mental image.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs, do you take Abigail Sciuto to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?"

Gibbs' gaze never wavers from her face. "I will," he answers with a slight nod, and Abby feels a thrill at the simple phrase.

His fingers are steady as he raises her hand, slipping the gold and jet ring they picked out for her together onto her finger. His thumb brushes her candle tattoo for a second before he releases her, and Abby smiles down at her hand, loving the way the metal band feels against her skin.

The pastor turns to her. "Abigail Sciuto, do you take Leroy Jethro Gibbs to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?"

Abby doesn't stop to consider her answer. "Totally."

A ripple of amusement goes through the attendees, Gibbs included. During the laughter-filled pause, Abby slides Gibbs' ring onto his finger – just a traditional gold wedding band.

The pastor is used to Abby after so many Sundays spent in her presence, and hardly misses a beat at her unusual consent. "Then by the power vested in me by Almighty God, I now pronounce you man and wife."

Abby manages to resist the temptation to jump up and down on the spot with elation, but it's a close thing.

"You may now kiss the bride," the pastor tells Gibbs.

As the onlookers hold their breath, Gibbs folds back her funeral veil with gentle fingers that skim her face. Abby leans into him as he kisses her softly, cementing their marriage to cheers from friends and family.

Gibbs pulls her into a hug as they break off, murmuring into her ear, "Love you, Abbs."

She knows he does, but he expresses the sentiment so rarely that she shivers happily, nuzzling his neck. "Wow, today must be special."

"Don't forget, we have company," he reminds her, and she releases him reluctantly to give a little wave to their guests.


	11. In Sickness

**Author's Note**: From a wedding to something a little less joyous... We're only two years from the present in my timeline now, so this'll be the last memory-arc. But it'll go over a couple of chapters, and then there'll be a chapter after that. So I'm still a little way off.

_

* * *

_

_14th April 2021_

Gibbs kisses Abby's forehead, his recollection of the wedding vows sparking another memory. "In sickness and in health, huh?"

Abby gives him a reproachful look. "Are you still worrying about that? I'm fine now…"

"Yeah, but that depends on your willpower, Abbs."

She snuggles into his embrace, her fingers coming to rest over his heart. "Are you kidding? I've never seen you so scared in my entire life – my willpower is iron!"

**

* * *

**

In Sickness

_30th July 2019_

His mind preoccupied with the case, Gibbs takes the elevator down to Abby's lab. When he walks through the door, the sight that meets his eyes drags his thoughts back to the present with disorientating immediacy.

Abby lies face-down on the ground, her head turned from him, motionless. Her Caf-Pow! cup has been knocked to the floor, and a small pool of the red liquid has collected by her hand.

Overcoming the paralysis that freezes him to the spot, Gibbs rushes to his wife's side. As he kneels beside her prone body, smoothing the hair back from her face, his first thought is that she's dead. Although warm, she's paler than usual, and at first he can't detect her breath.

His urgent fingers identify a pulse at her throat, steady and strong, and he becomes weak with relief, remembering to breathe again. Keeping a finger on her pulse as verification that she's in no immediate danger, he speed-dials Ducky, who answers after what seems like a lifetime. "Ah, Jethro… What a coincidence, I've just this minute finished the autopsy-"

"I don't care about that now, Duck. Abby's unconscious – I need you in here _now_." Ending the call without waiting for a response, he shrugs out of his jacket and places it under her head, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. A few seconds later, she stirs with a sigh, and Gibbs helps her roll over onto her back.

She gazes up at him sleepily, smiling in recognition, and stretches a little as if she's waking up in their bed at home. "Hey."

Before he can reply, a machine above them beeps, signalling that a test she's been running has completed. She frowns, momentarily confused, and then realisation dawns on her face. Closing her eyes, she mutters, "Damn. I passed out again, didn't I?"

"Again?" Gibbs' voice is sharp, made abrupt by anxiety. "How many times, Abby?"

Her eyes widen as she realises what she's said, and she struggles to sit up. Gibbs stops her, his hands more gentle than his voice. She settles back down without a fight, knowing it's futile to argue with him. "A few. Maybe five… no more than ten…"

Gibbs shakes his head, torn between concern and hurt. "And you were gonna let me know this, when?"

"Didn't wanna worry you," Abby says softly, reaching up to run her fingers across his jawline.

God knows what he would have said in response if Ducky hadn't arrived on the scene. The medical examiner rushes in, his bag of instruments in hand, and motions Gibbs aside, his eyes on his patient. "Abigail, my dear, how are you feeling?"

Abby submits to his examination without protest, allowing him to take her blood pressure and examine her pupil responses. "I'm fine. Just got a little dizzy, that's all. Can I sit up?"

As Ducky nods, Gibbs helps her into a sitting position. "She okay, Duck?"

For the first time, Ducky focuses on him. "For now. No signs of concussion or disorientation… no slurring of speech… blood pressure is a little low, but that's to be expected considering the loss of consciousness…"

"Could you take another blood sample?" Abby asks Ducky softly, avoiding Gibbs' gaze.

"_Another?_" He stares both of them down, demanding answers without wasting words.

Hugging her knees, Abby bites her lip. "Ducky's my doctor on this one. He's been trying to help me figure out why I'm passing out."

"Any luck?" His voice is dangerously calm and quiet as he hangs onto his composure.

"Not as yet," Ducky admits, looking a little sheepish. "Jethro-"

"Save it, Doctor," Gibbs snaps. "Take her damn blood and _then_ explain to me why you couldn't tell me my wife's been having fainting spells."

"Your wife's sitting right here," Abby mutters, holding out her arm for Ducky to extract blood from.

"No kidding." It's all he needs to say, and she drops her gaze guiltily.

Gibbs watches as Ducky fastens an elastic tourniquet around her bicep. Finding the vein on the first try, he begins to draw the blood, which Abby endures without flinching.

Once the needle's withdrawn from her flesh, and a bandage applied, Ducky hands her the vial of blood. "Let me know the result, my dear."

"Thanks, Ducky," Abby says quietly.

He rises from the floor, and Gibbs stands with him. "We're not done."

"Gibbs… don't be too hard on him. I made him promise not to tell you." When he glances down, she looks up at him from the floor with an expression so forlorn that he has to relent.

"Later," he tells Ducky, who nods and leaves, knowing that he'll be in a more reasonable mood after he talks things through with Abby.

Silence descends on the lab as they stare at each other. Abby's expression is sheepish, plaintive, and tinged with a dread Gibbs knows is reflected on his own face. She's scared, and so is he.

Wordlessly, he holds out a hand to her, and she lets him pull her to her feet and into his arms. Now isn't the time for blame. She clings to him, holding him as tightly as he's holding her, and takes a deep, shaky breath.

"I'm sorry I hid this from you," she whispers.

He doesn't let go of her as he responds. "You know I'm pissed beyond belief at you, right?"

Hearing the irony in his voice, she laughs despondently. "I know. You can headslap me when you know it won't knock me out."

The gallows humour hits him harder than he'd like, and he draws back far enough to look into her face. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Abbs."

She leans forward and kisses his lips briefly. "This is why I didn't wanna tell you. You want to fix it yourself, you always do, but you don't have a medical degree."

"Lucky we know someone who does, then."

Abby smiles, stepping out of his embrace. "Yeah, if he's still talking to you." Taking the blood sample over to her test tube rack, she pours it into several of the glass containers.

"He is." There's no doubt in his mind. His friendship with the Scotsman has survived his unauthorised abduction of a body from the morgue. Heated words on top of that are nothing. "How long's this been going on?"

"About a week, give or take…" She doesn't need to say more. Loss of consciousness between five and ten times in a week is something that would worry any doctor.

He steps back to let her past with a blood sample, which she loads into her centrifuge. "And you haven't been doing anything new? No new meds, new cosmetics-"

"No exercise routines, no dietary changes…" Abby chimes in. Turning from the centrifuge, she shakes her head. "Been over this already with Ducky. No."

Coming to stand in front of him again, she swallows hard, her fingers moving agitatedly against her thighs. "Ducky wants to refer me for tests. I mean, brain tests. CAT scan, MRI, maybe CT... he's already taken X-rays and they're fine, but they mainly show bone."

The dread he's been feeling since he learned the truth intensifies, and he closes his eyes for a second, letting the feeling in before pushing it out again. "You should go. Let them figure out if there's a problem."

Her eyes fill with tears, and she drops her head onto his shoulder. "What if I have a tumour, Gibbs? Or an aneurism, or-"

Gibbs kisses the top of her head, silencing her. "We deal with that if it happens, Abbs. Right now, we don't know anything."

She nods, trying to compose herself. "Could you… maybe… tell me everything's gonna be alright?" she requests, her voice filled with trepidation.

"You're gonna be fine, Abbs. You've had stalkers and serial killers after you – this is a walk in the park."

Neither of them have any way of knowing, but his words comfort them both.


	12. Diagnosis

**Author's Note**: Yeah, it's been forever since I updated this, I'm so sorry! What with Acta kind of taking over for a bit and then co-writing Rewards and Punishments with Cassy, this got kinda neglected. To the people who wanted Abby pregnant - sorry to disappoint you! I've never written pregnancy!fic and I never will. It's a personal squick. :) Hope this doesn't disappoint too much!

**

* * *

**

Diagnosis

_August 2__nd__, 2019_

Abby agrees to the tests Ducky recommends, and he refers her to a neurologist at Bethesda, explaining that a specialist will be more qualified to deal with her case than he is. During the two days they wait for her appointment, Abby faints three more times – twice in her lab and once at home. Even so, she ignores the advice to take a little time off work, pushing herself as hard as ever despite Gibbs' protests.

The night before the appointment he finds her in the basement, running her fingers along the half-sanded skeleton of his latest boat with a frown. Hearing him approach, she smiles forlornly. "Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

He doesn't answer her question, pulling her into a hug instead. "I think you should try."

She sighs, wrapping her arms around him in return, and mumbles into his shirt, "What if something's really, really wrong? I should be sleeping less, not more, in case…"

He tightens his grip on her, and she trails off, knowing that he's caught her drift. "Don't even say that, Abbs," he murmurs against her hair, and she quietens, letting him hold her.

After losing his first wife and daughter to tragedy, he'd never thought he could find true happiness again. He'd settled for faded facsimiles for a while, the original image lost forever. But Abby had changed everything, not in an instant but over many years, teasing and hugging her way into his heart.

If he loses her… there's no hope for anything any more.

"C'mon. Let's go to bed," he tells her softly, urging her toward the stairs. Wearily, she lets him guide her up to their bedroom, sliding under the covers and staring up at the ceiling. Putting out the light, he draws her close, holding her until he hears her breath slow into the regular pattern of sleep. Even then, it takes him a while to follow her.

* * *

The tests are performed one after the other, with minimal waiting time in between. Images of Abby's brain are taken, some black-and-white stills, some moving, seething with swirls of colour as her brain function is measured. She submits to it all with meek nods, following orders from the technicians without comment.

When she's changed from the shapeless hospital robe back to her black pants and shirt, she joins Gibbs outside the specialist's office, dropping into the seat next to him and sliding her hand into his. He squeezes it reassuringly, and they wait for the verdict in silence.

After what seems like forever, the specialist – Doctor Parish – speaks her name, and they both rise to follow him into his office.

Abby fidgets, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. Gibbs, on the other hand, feels too still, too motionless, as if time around him has frozen while everything else moves on.

"I'll start with the good news," Doctor Parish says, and the slight smile he directs at Abby gives Gibbs a little hope. "We've looked at the images from your scans, Abby, and there's no sign of a tumour or an aneurism. Your brain is perfectly healthy, just a little… distressed at the moment."

Abby releases the breath she's been holding, sagging back in her chair, and Gibbs regains the ability to move, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. "So..." Abby begins slowly, "Do you know what's freaking my brain out?"

Parish slides a printout of a digital image across the desk, and she and Gibbs both lean forward as he points out certain areas. "These vessels circulate blood around your brain. At the moment, these seem to be narrowed, which is what's causing you to faint. Your brain is struggling to get enough blood, and therefore enough oxygen."

"That's not good," Abby whispers, staring at the image.

Gibbs has seen countless X-rays in the morgue at the Navy Yard, and he's gotten pretty good at spotting anomalies. However, this picture shows flesh, not bone, and it's a complete mystery to him. All he can do is trust what Parish says. "What's causing it?"

"Given the fact that these fainting spells are a new occurrence, and Abby has no prior history of neurological or mental impairment-"

At this, Gibbs can't help but cast an amused look at his wife, who looks away, biting back a smile. They've both called into question her 'mental impairment' at various points in their relationship. But her eccentricities are just her personality, and Parish doesn't need to know about them. He tunes into Parish's words again.

"-I would speculate the most likely cause to be an allergy of some kind. Now, I know you've stated that you haven't changed your habits in the past couple of weeks, but please, think back. Is there any common denominator tying together your fainting episodes? A particular place, perhaps?"

All humour put aside, Abby frowns. "Mostly my lab at work… once while I was in my car, about to start driving home…" She avoids Gibbs' eyes at this, and he grits his teeth against the image of her out on the road, doing sixty miles per hour, dizzy, lightheaded, then unconscious. The thought terrifies him so much that he almost breaks free of his self-control to confront her about driving in that state, but he swallows it down as she continues. "And a couple of times at home. All places I've been before."

Parish makes a note on his pad before continuing. "Any new chemicals in your lab? Could you list as many as you can that you've worked with recently, from memory?"

Abby shakes her head to his first question, and then reels off a plethora of complex, multi-syllabic words. Parish listens, nodding occasionally, until she exhausts herself. "And there've been no chemical spills recently? No accidentally inhaling something you shouldn't?"

At her negative reply, he goes on to his next question. "How about food and drink? Any common themes?"

Abby's silent a moment, thinking, and Gibbs lets his mind drift back to the two occasions he's been present during one of her fainting spells. The first time she was in her lab; the second, at home, getting up from the couch to head for the shower.

"_Whoa, I feel dizzy…" The colour had drained out of her face, and she was swaying a little on her feet, unsteady. Gibbs was on his feet instantly, taking the Caf-Pow! cup she held from her grip and setting it on the coffee table, catching her as her knees gave out and lowering her carefully to the couch cushions._

"No," Abby begins to say, but he cuts across her as realisation dawns.

"Caf-Pow!."

Both Abby and Parish look over at him, Parish with confusion, Abby with dawning panic. "No way, Gibbs! What are you thinking? I've been drinking that stuff for what, seventeen, eighteen years? Why would it all of a sudden affect me now?"

"Could you elaborate?" Parish cuts in, still at a loss.

"It's a soft drink. Kinda like Red Bull, but it tastes more… Hawaiian Punch-y. Its main components are caffeine and taurine, and I tend to drink… a lot of them. Like, maybe eight or nine a day." Abby watches her specialist anxiously, waiting for answers.

"Is there a reason why you think this drink could be causing Abby's condition?" Parish asks Gibbs.

He directs his response to Abby. "Beginning of last week, I brought you one, and you said it tasted different."

Realisation dawns on her face, followed swiftly by dismay. "Different, but good. I remember. They've all been like that since then…"

"They probably revised the recipe. When was the last time you analysed one with your mass spectrometer?"

"A while ago," she mutters, chewing on her lower lip as she processes the implications. "I'll do another test when we get back to the Navy Yard. But…" She fixes a pleading gaze upon Parish, as if he can change the facts. "Can't it be anything else? Anything?"

A little baffled, the specialist tells her, "From the sound of it, this is the most likely cause. Sometimes additives or agents added to food or drink can increase a person's susceptibility to an active ingredient within it, and with caffeine coupled with taurine, that could certainly cause adverse symptoms. I would suggest the best course of action from here would be to abstain from this drink for the next week, and see what effect that has. Make an appointment for next week with my secretary on your way out, and we'll review then."

Abby groans, dropping her head into her hands, and Gibbs grins with sheer relief, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, Abbs. I'll buy you a coffee."

She stands, irritated by his obvious amusement, and signs something unrepeatable that he'd be shocked to hear her say. "Thanks, Doctor," she says dejectedly, and heads for the door.

Gibbs echoes her thanks, more sincerely, and follows her out into the hall. She spins to face him as soon as the office door is shut. "How can you look so happy? It's Caf-Pow!, Gibbs… I can't live without Caf-Pow!"

"I'm not happy," he tells her, deadpan. "I gotta live with you while you go cold-turkey."


	13. Insatiable Curiosity

**Author's Note: **The final chapter... so fluffy I can actually feel a hairball at the back of my throat. *lol* No flashbacks in this one, just tying up the present a little. And I can't believe I'm finishing this so soon after Acta... now Unmistakable's my only WIP. It's kinda strange... XD And yeah, I gotta say it again - I love you guys! You make writing so easy. :)

* * *

_14__th__ April, 2021_

Abby sighs, as if mourning all the Caf-Pow!s that might have been. "Life really sucks sometimes."

Amused, Gibbs takes her empty coffee mug from her lap and sets it down on the table. "Ya think?"

For a few seconds they lapse into comfortable silence, and he decides now's as good a time to ask as any. "So when is it?"

He feels her stiffen a little in his arms, and smiles inwardly. She really is too easy to read, sometimes.

"When's what?"

"The surprise retirement party you think I don't know about."

Abby groans, punching his arm with good-natured frustration. "Damn it, Gibbs! How did you know?"

"I'm retiring. You know about it. It's a pretty easy conclusion to come to, Abbs."

"Damn it," she repeats under her breath, dropping her head onto his shoulder. "I owe Tony fifty bucks."

"Stupid bet to make," he points out, and she smiles sheepishly, conceding the point. "So, when?"

For a second she bites her lip, weighing up the pros and cons of a lie. As he raises a knowing eyebrow, she sighs and mutters, "Thursday night."

He has to hand it to her – she was thinking tactically when she made the arrangements. His last day in the office is tomorrow, a Friday, and he'd have expected her to opt for then or Saturday for a party. By next Thursday, he'd have dropped his guard – not completely, but a little. She knows him too well. "Not bad."

She catches his drift and brightens a bit. "Thanks." After pausing for a second to absorb the praise, she gets back on topic. "Promise you'll still act surprised?"

Gibbs looks at her askance, and she rolls her eyes. "Okay, okay. Pointless request." Curling closer to him, she frowns. "I just can't believe you're retiring. That makes me feel so old, y'know?"

"It makes _you_ feel old?" He can't quite believe it himself. Time seemed to pass so slowly when he was a kid. Once he moved away from Stillwater, it began to trickle away faster and faster, so that before he knew it he had a wife and eight-year-old child. For a time, things deadened and slowed again, as he struggled to deal with the void his family had inhabited, but after a while it speeded up again, through three divorces, countless cases, comradeship, tragedy and… Abby.

The subject of his thoughts speaks, drawing him back into the moment. "You know what I mean. I keep thinking how weird it is that we're in 2021 and there are no flying cars yet, y'know? I feel kinda cheated. And my mind still thinks it's 2005 or something, and now you're leaving NCIS and it's just… hinky."

He laughs softly. "You'll get used to it. And it's not like you're not gonna see me every day anyway."

"But you're gonna go stir-crazy," she points out, not for the first time. "I mean, there are only so many hours a day you can work on a boat."

Gibbs glances at the clock, spying the chance for a segue. They've been reminiscing for around an hour – to postpone this any longer would be unfair. "I'll have things to occupy me."

"Coffee-making, boat-building, going to the shooting range," she lists sceptically, counting each activity off on a finger. "What else?"

"Head down to the basement and find out." He smiles a little despite himself as her gaze becomes more focused, her brow creasing a little as her mind works overtime.

"You built a bar down there and set up sleeping bags for Franks and Fornell, didn't you?"

He returns her stare impassively, suppressing the laughter that tries to rise within him, and she rolls her eyes, jumping up from the couch. "Okay, okay, so I'm full of insatiable curiosity."

"That's why I married you," he tells her, getting up with her and giving her a little push toward the door. "Go on…"

With a final curious glance back at him, Abby succumbs to her inquisitive nature, venturing into the kitchen. "Why is the basement door shut? It's never shut when I'm not playing music…"

"Abbs, if you stopped questioning me and went down there, you'd already know."

"Hmm, good point." She opens the door and pokes her head around it, snapping on the light. "Can't see anything new… are we gonna have to play 'hot-or-cold'?"

Grinning, Gibbs puts two fingers to his lips and blows a short, sharp whistle. With a yip and a patter of paws, something races from underneath the boat and up the basement steps.

Abby gasps, dropping to her knees to meet the puppy that skids to a stop at her feet. "Hey there, little cutie!"

For a few minutes, she's completely absorbed in lavishing attention on the chocolate Labrador/spaniel crossbreed, scratching behind his ears and letting him lick her free hand all over. Then, beaming up at Gibbs, she asks, "Where did he come from?"

"Sarah McGee," he says, and she straightens to give his arm another light punch, shaking her head in disbelieving admiration at his methods.

"Tabasco had puppies?! You got everyone at work to keep that from me, didn't you?"

"Mmm-hmm…"

Gibbs doesn't need to say more. The puppy, starved of attention, whines plaintively, and Abby's focus snaps back to him. Rolling him over onto his side, she rubs his belly, addressing Gibbs without looking up. "He's gorgeous… Did Sarah give him a name?"

"Nope."

Abby gathers the pup into her arms and stands up, her eyes shining. "I never figured you for the pet-loving type, Gibbs. I mean, I know animals like you, but I never thought you'd wanna own one yourself."

"Always wanted a dog," he admits, watching the puppy busily set to work washing Abby's face. Giggling, she turns her head to deflect the worst of its licks from her lips as he continues, "Old man wouldn't let me have one as a kid. Then I joined the Corps... Shannon was allergic, and then when I joined NCIS I worked too much. Wouldn't have been fair."

He runs a hand over the pup's head, and the creature turns its enthusiastic tongue to his fingers. "Gonna name him?"

"You should do it," she says, her eyes intrigued as she absorbs the new information he's given her. "What would you have called your childhood dog?"

It's so far back that he can't even recall. Shaking his head to dismiss the question, he regards the panting, wriggling puppy thoughtfully. "Kinda reminds me of when DiNozzo was a probie…"

Abby sets the dog down, trying to keep a straight face. "Be nice…"

"Nice?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

Amusement lacing her voice, she accuses, "You're just gonna miss yelling 'DiNozzo!' twenty times a day. That's what this entire thing's about."

While the puppy treats everything at floor-level to a thorough sniffing, she steps into Gibbs' arms, laughing softly. "He's perfect-"

A muffled yip interrupts her response, and they both turn to watch their new pet return to their feet, dragging one of Abby's bras in its mouth. In the corner, the basket of laundry waiting to be washed has been upset, and clothing is strewn about the floor.

"What did I tell you?" Gibbs asks, as Abby bends down to retrieve the garment. "DiNozzo."

END.


End file.
